


What an insufferable boy

by Taera



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Available in Russian, Father/Son Incest, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Taera
Summary: Connor took the matters into his own hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Несносный мальчишка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376351) by [Tatrien (Taera)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Tatrien). 



> Originally written for "Winter Temporary Fandom Combat 2016".  
> The English version is not beta-read, all mistakes are mine.

It was always hard for Haytham to see Connor as his son. No, he understood it with his mind and never doubted the fact that they indeed were blood-related, although an abyss of twenty whole years lay between them all the same. For him, Connor had been and, most likely, would always remain a stubborn half-blood. And more often yes than no Haytham felt exasperation and annoyance, because Connor could drive him mad with staggering dexterity and terrifying ease.

It was because of all that that Haytham could not comprehend how it came down to him sitting with his arms tied to a tree behind him (his shoulders ached from the uncomfortable angle) and to Connor unfastening Haytham’s breeches with a stony face. He didn’t react at all to the swearing and the outrage, and deftly parried all kicks directed at him, so Haytham was able to do only one thing: press the back of his head to the coarse bark of the tree trunk and silently ask the sky for patience. He was not going to give the boy pleasure and react even slightly positively to his clumsy caresses. Haytham angrily hissed when a cold hand wrapped around his soft cock and took it out from the breeches.

Several seconds went by, yet nothing happened; Haytham glanced spitefully at his loitering son, who was looking at Haytham's cock almost perplexed as if he'd never seen anything like it before.

“If you are done, Connor, be a good boy and untie me. Then I will, perhaps, think about _not slicing your throat that very moment_ ,” the last part Haytham growled venomously, losing control a little.

He calculated that after that the boy should flinch and move away with a guilty look, then, after several moments, he would cut the ropes. Yet he flinched, and that’s all. Then he loured at Haytham, Connor’s black hair, wavy from the braids it had been in before, hiding half of his face.

A moment later Haytham couldn’t believe his eyes; Connor went down on all fours and, looking completely obscene, licked the head of Haytham’s cock with his wet, _hot_ tongue, and then he lifted his head and peered into Haytham’s eyes.

The boy was serious. He was goddamn serious.

“Stop it!” Haytham barked out, renewing his attempts to loosen the knots around his wrists. Waves of horror and irritation interchangeably ran down along his spine. “Do you even realize _what_ and _with whom_ you’re doing?!”

Connor simply hummed thoughtfully and lowered his head. Helping himself with his right hand, he carefully pulled back the foreskin as far as it could go and licked again, this time the naked glans. Haytham huffed through gritted teeth and pressed the back of his head to the tree trunk. He had no idea what had got into Connor’s head and made him behave like that, but it was hard to remain indifferent when someone’s fingers carefully caressed his testicles and a hot tongue swept lewdly along the shaft, when someone was nipping ever so lightly or grasping harder.

Biting his lips and growling softly, Haytham still wasn’t going to indulge this insolent boy. Who, it seemed, liked what he was doing more and more with every passing moment — his movements became more offhand, and, as Haytham soon noticed, Connor pressed his second hand to his own groin. A wave of indignation and disgust helped Haytham to contain a moan when Connor hungrily captured the head with his lips, enveloping it with tightness, looking right into Haytham’s eyes with his own, wide-open.

The wrongness of what was going on dug under the nails like needles, but, feeling the tight warmth, Haytham found himself tempted to stop caring so much and — for once — to give in and comply with the silent entreaty of the hazel eyes. Turning his head away, Haytham bit down onto his tongue, hard, and continued loosening the knots, in spite of the pain in his shoulders.

“Just look at yourself,” he spat out scathingly, gasping for air after Connor licked around the base with especial zeal. The boy somehow managed to find there a sensitive spot. "A champion of freedom and equality whom Washington admires so much, and on his knees, not only sucking a man and his enemy off but also sucking his own _father_ off.”

Connor huffed angrily through his nose but didn’t let Haytham’s cock out. Instead, in response to those words he grazed his teeth over the tender flesh, and damn it, Haytham barely caught a groan from leaving. What he couldn’t contain, was a surge of arousal that coiled into a scorching ring in his stomach, sending gooseflesh all over his body. Cursing through gritted teeth, Haytham angrily looked down at now-smug Connor. The boy became distinctly more cheerful when he felt a cock in his mouth finally getting hard.

The rest of the pejorative speech got lost somewhere in-between the creaking of the rope and mewling moans that Connor let out every time he moved away for a moment to gulp some air. Somewhere in there Haytham also lost his disgust and horror, resigning himself to the fact that he would have several more sins on his conscience.

But if he stopped explicitly resisting already, it didn’t mean at all that he was going to forgive Connor for this outrageous obscenity with the same ease. Annoyance burned in Haytham’s chest maliciously and brightly the moment he thought that Connor could’ve done something like that with someone else. A Kenway, and standing on his knees before some stranger? Never.

In a fit of pique putting more strength into another pull of the stupid rope, at first, Haytham didn't realize what that snapping meant. But then he quickly oriented himself; quicker than Connor, whose reaction was whole three seconds late.

Clutching at the teasing hair with his right hand, letting the strands coil around his fingers, Haytham pulled sharply, making Connor raise his head. Instead of the pained cry that Haytham was expecting a broken moan cut through the air. Looking into hazel eyes, he saw there only bottomless wells of dilated pupils. Dark cheeks with a scattering of freckles over them got even darker from the flush, lips, a little swelled up, were wantonly half-opened and glistening with spit. Haytham involuntarily squeezed fingers harder, and again Connor feverishly moaned, shuddering and pressing both hands to his groin, as if he couldn’t bring himself to move further and touch himself without the barrier of clothes.

Lust, naked and thoroughly exposed, seeing which made Haytham moan softly through clenched teeth.

Impossible.

“Do you realize _what_ you’re doing to me?”

When Connor licked his lips, focusing his gaze on him, Haytham felt a strong and brutish desire to cover those lips with his own and bite and kiss them until there was a strong taste of blood between them.

“Father, _please,_ ” Connor’s voice was pleading, high, completely unlike his usual moody manner of speaking. Surprised, Haytham yanked him by the hair, forcing to throw his head back.

Haytham’s self-control cracked when Connor frantically inhaled and let out a long low moan. With a growl Haytham, again, pulled the boy by the hair closer and kissed his lips hard and unforgiving. How and when they ended up on their knees, pressing together with their thighs and stomachs, Haytham couldn’t say even if the eternal life of his soul depended on this answer. Hungry mewling moans, low and piteous, falling from Connor’s lewd lips, were driving Haytham mad, and in a fit of unprecedented generosity he unfastened boy’s breeches with his free hand and pulled them down. Ignoring Connor’s protesting and squirming Haytham took his cock, hot and heavy, and pressed it to his own, clasping both of them with one hand.

Connor shuddered and broke the kiss. His breathing loud and fast, he was clutching at Haytham’s coat with both hands, shock and drunken pleasure flashing in his wide-opened eyes. With a short snarl Haytham once more pulled his hair, forcing Connor to throw his head back yet again, and without any kindness bit down on the skin of his throat, sucking on the salty flesh and toying with it with his teeth and tongue, making sure to leave a bright and unambiguous hickey. Connor cried loudly, tensing and arching back — and came.

“A boy,” irritatingly hissed Haytham, moving away abruptly.

Without stopping to think he forced Connor down on all fours, using his hair again. Then the boy understood what was expected of him and open his mouth, letting Haytham lead. Aroused and still angry, he pushed into the willing warmth without much ado, baring his teeth every time Connor grunted indignantly at an especially deep penetration.

But, still, he was reacting very well indeed to the fact that someone was fucking his mouth, and it immediately created suspicions about where (and _with_ _whom_ ) Connor practiced. These thoughts blinded Haytham with bright irritation and he gripped black silky strands even stronger. Orgasm came unexpectedly, and Haytham refused to admit that he came the moment he saw Connor squeezing his eyes shut and tears glistening on his eyelashes.

Waiting till he was completely spent, Haytham carefully disentangled his hand from the black mane and moved away. Breathing heavily, he leaned back against the ill-fated tree to which he was tied to at the beginning. He thought Connor would like to spit out his semen, but the insufferable boy simply wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled, satisfied, catching Haytham’s stunned gaze. Adam’s apple jumped up and down as the boy swallowed everything.

“ _Connor_ -” Haytham hissed in warning, but he himself didn’t even know what exactly he was warning him about.

“Miriam was right,” cheerfully and frankly said Connor, just like a boy he was. “You really like me.”

“ _What_? You discussed this with someone?!” outrage swept over Haytham like a wave.

Remembering the state of his clothes, he began arranging it back in order, almost immediately lamenting the fact that because of Connor he would have to wash it off.

“Well, I didn’t tell her all the details,” in a don’t-think-I’m-that-stupid tone said Connor, following his example and making himself look decent again. “But everything was just as she said it would. ‘If you constantly argue and invade each other’s personal space during the fights, then you like each other’.”

"What an infernal logic is that? In that case, you and Charles should totally worship one another.” Haytham zealously ignored the sharp irritation that flashed inside him at the thought of Connor and Charles together.

Dark eyes flared with hatred.

“Him, I will kill. And you, you like me indeed, so just shut up, old man. Miriam was right.”

“If you don’t change your tone this very moment, this ‘old man’ will kick your arse,” Haytham growled, threatening, instantly angry from such an attitude.

But it didn’t matter how quickly he had jumped to his feet; Connor was the first one standing, grinning smugly and catching Haytham’s irritated gaze.

What an insufferable boy!


End file.
